Mrs Hudson vs Kitty Riley
by IzzyDelta
Summary: Kitty Riley needs a follow up story to her exposé. She wants to write about Mrs Hudson's experiences but the landlady has something to say about that. Mrs Hudson takes her own revenge on the vile reporter. One shot. DO NOT OWN CHARACTERS.


**Mrs Hudson vs. Kitty Riley**

Kitty Riley sits in her flat, reeling from the impact her expose of Sherlock Holmes has made. It seemed that everyone wants a piece of her now. She's now one of the most well known journalists in London! She sighs. Her editor had requested a follow up piece. He had specified the blogger John Watson but he had said it could be anyone who had worked along side the sleuth. Kitty had looked up who had owned the 221b Baker Street flat and found that the old lady below in 221a owned the building. She had rung the lady, a Mrs Hudson, a couple of times but each time the phone had either rung out, and Kitty refused to leave a message, or she had aborted the call after finding out that Kitty was a journalist. Kitty was frustrated. She needed a follow up scoop. Now.

Two hours later, a cab pulls up outside Speedy's Café. Kitty climbs out and leans in through the front passenger window to pay the cabby. She gives him smile of gratitude. She turns and enters the café. May as well have a drink and something to eat while she's here. In the cafes she chooses her favourite sandwich and a fruit juice and takes them to the till. She pays for them and takes them to table not at the back of the café but not right out on the street either. She sits and eats her sandwich watching the people walk by on the street. During one of the lulls, a stout man limps in leaning heavily on a medical cane and drops into a seat on the table next to her. She pretends to ignore him but watches him out of the corner of her eye. The elderly lady behind the till, clucks and bustles around making him a cuppa. 'John, dear, you should eat.' The man, John, fixes her with a scowl. She happily ignores it and retrieves a sandwich from the display and sets the two in front of him. He stares blankly at them before pushing the sandwich away. 'He wouldn't want you to starve yourself.' Something clicks in Kitty's mind. John Watson had a limp before he met Sherlock Holmes. She looks closer at the man on the next table. Yes definitely John Watson. But a broken one. She feels a small twinge of guilt, a small one but a guilt twinge all the same. She involuntary smiles. She has her in. unfortunately her smile coincides with John's reply

'If he didn't want me to starve he wouldn't have been so selfish would he? What you smiling at?' Kitty looks at him.

'Pardon?'

'You heard me. I wouldn't have thought you would have the guts to be around here after what you did.' the busybody behind the till envelops John in a hug.

'Come home.' Kitty hears her murmur. 'I need my boys.'

'I can't Mrs Hudson. Not yet.' Mrs Hudson. That is Mrs Hudson?

'Well, when you can let me know.' John offers her a weak smile.

'I will.'

'I'll just wrap your sandwich and you can take it with you.' John doesn't protest as Mrs Hudson removes the plate of sandwiches and rewraps them up. She hands them back as John rises stiffly to his feet and limps out of the door. He steps onto the street and looks back making eye contact with Mrs Hudson. She understand what he is telling her silently, she hurries over with a 'John dear?' John murmurs in her ear. She smiles fondly, and looks over her shoulder at Kitty. 'I'll be fine, I dealt with Sherlock remember? Everyone is easy compared to him, except maybe his brother.' John snorts and limps away. Mrs Hudson retakes her seat behind the counter and reads a paper. Kitty approaches her cautiously. 'No I don't want an interview.' Mrs Hudson doesn't even look up from her paper.

'How did you know I was going to ask that? I could have wanted to ask something else.' Mrs Hudson looks up.

'Well? And no I'm not giving you John Watson's new address.'

'You were right.'

'Let me ask you this young lady, How on earth can you think that I would let myself be interviewed by someone who drove a young man I really cared for to his death and burnt the heart out of the other?' Kitty gapes at her. Someone comes in behind her and sniggers at Mrs Hudson's comment. Kitty looks over her shoulder and sneers when she spots her rival. Edmund Foster of the guardian newspaper. 'Hello Edmund dear, your usual?'

'Yes please Mrs Hudson, with a cola as well.'

'Living dangerously.' The owner teases handing over a large cup of strong coffee.

'The spice of life.' He drops his voice, 'Kitty, quit while you're ahead. Mrs Hudson is an ox when it comes to stubbornness. No means an absolutely definitely completely and utterly no in her book anyway.' He flashes her a false smile and move to his favourite table. Mrs Hudson returns to her paper. Kitty sighs and decides to make a tactical retreat. She steps out of the café into the street. She glances either way in the street looking for a cab conscious that two pairs of eyes are on her. She decides to walk back to her flat and turns to walk past the door to 221b. Once she has walked out of sight, both of Mrs Hudson and Edmund burst out laughing. 'I thought she would try harder than that.'

'You would have.' Around the corner of Baker Street Kitty grit her teeth and growls.

'Foster, you're dead.'

The next day Kitty Riley walks towards her desk, slightly uncomfortable with all the stares her fellow journalists are giving her. She ignores them and sits heavily in her chair. She sends plenty of thanks to the heavens that she recorded the conversation between herself and Mrs Hudson. She may be able to salvage something form the disastrous trip to Baker Street. 'RILEY!' Her editor yells just as she opens up her desk computer. She groans and pulls herself to her feet turning to face the editor-in-chief as she rises.

'Sir?'

'Where's your follow up?'

'I'm still writing it sir.'

'Who?'

'Mrs Martha Hudson, owner of 221b Baker Street, landlady to Sherlock Holmes. I thought "Living with a Consulting Liar" for the headline.'

'Office. Now.' Kitty Swallows and walks between the desks of her colleagues. Between them they had dubbed that journey, the walk of shame.

'What wrong sir?' she asks entering the office. Her eyes flit about the room landing on a paper on the editor's desk. The headline screams out at Kitty. She gulps. 'Ah.'

'Ah. Care to explain?'

'Edmund Foster frequents the café run by Mrs Hudson. He over heard the tail end of me trying to persuade Mrs Hudson for an interview.' She picks up the paper to read the article.

**Sherlock Survivor: Living with Genius**

**Mrs Hudson speaks out about her experiences of living with Sherlock Holmes. 221b Baker Street, EXCLUSIVE photos.**


End file.
